


The Bad Guy

by Rulerofthefakeempire



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: And is better than everybody, Confessions, Draco gets shit done, Fluff and Angst, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-26
Updated: 2015-09-26
Packaged: 2018-04-23 11:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,907
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4874959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rulerofthefakeempire/pseuds/Rulerofthefakeempire
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He had based half of his life of Draco Malfoy being evil, malicious and crude. He had spent so much time thinking of ways to get him back, to taunt him and be taunted in return. And he had wanted so desperately for life to go back to being the way it had been before. And Draco had been a part of that, whether he liked it or not.</p><p>Only Draco wouldn't play his part as requested. </p><p>And Harry Potter was deeply disturbed by it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Bad Guy

When Draco Malfoy came back to school, after the war, after narrowly avoiding prison, he was very different from when he had left. He stood straighter, and he was near completely silent. And sometimes, on rare occasions, he came to class with his white hair uncombed, like he had forgotten to look in the mirror before leaving his room; the old Malfoy never would’ve done that, he was far too meticulous.

 

And when he walked he walked like he wanted to go where he was going, and his whole face seemed to have lightened. And sometimes, on strange days, you could find him just standing in the sun, like he was marveling in the existence of sunshine, like he had never felt it before on his skin. He shed the friends he had never really had, he washed his skin gently free of the life he had owned before, and instead built another for himself from the rubble.

 

And everyone hated him.

 

And he didn’t care.

 

For a while, they all assumed that he was moping, ashamed of his family, but then, it appeared, that he wasn’t. He wasn’t sulking or pouting. He was simply existing in way he hadn’t before, pleasantly alone, and absentmindedly uncaring. His grades rose dramatically, and he started spending more and more time in the library, buried in the books he had previously scoffed at. Reading, not because he wanted to get ahead, but because he wanted to know.

 

He spoke only when spoken to, and when he did his voice was no longer jeering, or crude. It was elegant, and knowledgeable, like a ribbon curling from his mouth. He was still a snake, still a liar and a thief, and traitor at his core, he was just better at it. He settled quietly and simply into his role, and after a while, people left him alone. Left him be.

 

The teachers got used to it before the students did, learnt to trust him, not that he needed their trust. They found it easier to shed their hate, easier to accept his acceptance. They didn’t call on him in class unless he raised his hand, and he didn’t jeer or cause havoc like he used to. He provided test results and they marked him fairly.

 

The students had found it harder, and Malfoy hadn’t cared.

 

He had heard their bickering, the faux rumors and the loud hisses behind his back and he moved through them, not like he didn’t hear, but like they were too tiny to bother acting on. And, eventually, they accepted that. The student body collectively agreed that Draco Malfoy was taking care of himself, and they need not bother themselves with him, because he would not give them the same in return.

 

It was almost like a whole new person had just inhabited his skin.

 

But no, that wasn’t the case. There were still bits of the old Malfoy that showed up every now and then. He still liked the same dishes in the grand hall, he still had grey eyes, and he was still silver-tongued and snide. He was still Malfoy; he just… found it easier. He liked it more; he looked like he was fine with just being him.

 

And Harry Potter was deeply disturbed by it.

 

He had died and brought back to life, he had fought a war, and defeated people, and broken the most powerful wand in existence. He’d been beaten and battered, tossed away, ripped to shreds, and what really bothered him was that Draco Malfoy was reading instead of taunting him, and maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t as evil as first presumed.

 

And he found that very disturbing.

 

He had based half of his life of Draco Malfoy being evil, malicious and crude. He had spent so much time thinking of ways to get him back, to taunt him and be taunted in return. And he had wanted so desperately for life to go back to being the way it had been before. And Draco had been a part of that, whether he liked it or not. Draco had been his villain, his nemesis, someone to keep him occupied, to keep him out of the big trouble by being the trouble on his level.

 

And when the first day of school had rolled around Draco didn’t look at him once, didn’t jeer, or tease. He just stood there, leaning on a wall with a book in a language that Harry couldn’t place, completely calm as a group of boys surrounded him, yelling insults. The most he had done in his own defense was turn a page, the biggest insult he could’ve given them done with barely an action.

 

And they still hadn’t spoken since.

Draco didn’t exactly avoid him, he simply wasn’t where Harry was and when Harry was where he was he made a quick polite exit and disappeared down the hall before Harry could catch him.

 

And finally, finally, he had decided to confront him about it, because something was up. Because Draco was meant to be the bad guy and he wasn’t playing his part as requested. Harry found him, as predicted, in the library, right at the back, amongst the mess of bookshelves and musty smells. He sat in armchair under a window where the sunlight streamed in and he lay across it, one arm under his head, his eyes half open, and the other holding a book, his legs dangling over one of the arms. He probably heard Harry a mile away, but he only looked up when he was spoken to, and his expression didn’t change.

 

“Hello Malfoy.”

 

“What do you want?” Was his immediate response, at least that sounded like the Malfoy he had known, all hard eyes, and a narrowed glance.

 

“What’s up with you?” He wanted to fight, he wanted to bicker. He wanted his old Malfoy back.

 

This Malfoy raised his chin just a fraction.

 

“You once tried to kill me, and I like being alive.”

 

That was a good point. Malfoy snapped shut his book.

 

“You’ve tried to kill me as well,” that wasn’t strictly true, but it was true enough to pass in his mind. Malfoy seemed to accept it as he removed his legs from the arm of the chair and placed his feet on the floor.

 

“But I know I’m not going to try again.” He stood, his expression like a brass mask covering his face, unchanging and cold.

 

Harry gritted his teeth.

 

“Why?”

 

“Because it would serve no purpose and I don’t want to.”

 

Malfoy floated past him. He was doing that thing again, the thing were he left as soon as Harry arrived, without ever looking like he was leaving at all. And it bugged him. So when Malfoy walked away from him, he turned on his heel and followed. He would not let him escape.

 

“You’re different.” He said as he followed, like he thought that Malfoy might not have noticed.

 

“As are you.” Why wasn’t he biting at him? Why wasn’t he playing? It made him feel oddly neglected. They continued down through the bookshelves, and Draco glanced back at him, just once, like he didn’t want to forget what he looked like, or like he was checking that Harry was really there at all. He turned back and sighed.

 

They were both silent for a moment, because they didn’t know what to say, so Harry just followed Draco and Draco just tried to escape.

 

He took out the book he had been reading, and Harry just followed him, staring intently with his arms crossed across his chest.

 

“Why won’t you talk to me?”

 

“Why would you?”

 

They continued down a corridor, and the students filed around them, minding their own business as Draco Malfoy stalked with more vigor than usual down a corridor and Harry Potter followed him incessantly. Mostly they just stared until the two reached the back gardens, another spot where Malfoy liked to roost.

 

At least they were alone there.

 

“Can’t you just leave me alone?” He hissed, annoyed.

 

“No, you aren’t doing what you’re meant to do.”

 

Malfoy spun around and they came to an abrupt stop, his eyes were fierce again, like they used to do.

 

“Well, boohoo Potter. People aren’t fitting into your perfect world anymore, grow up.” He sneered, but it wasn’t like his old sneer. He held his book to his chest, like he was resisting hitting him with it.

 

“You’re meant to be the bad guy,” Harry took a step towards him, and Malfoy sneered again. This wasn’t as satisfying as it had once been, something was wrong, why was something always wrong?

 

“You’re right, I _was_ meant to be the bad guy, I was you’re second villain. But I got free, I moved on. You’re the one still living like you’re ruled.”

 

Harry looked at him confusedly. This wasn’t Malfoy teasing him, or taunting him, this was Malfoy getting frustrated with him. He wasn’t meant to do that.

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

Draco rolled his eyes.

 

“Do I have to explain _everything_ to you?” Draco sighed. “Look, the prophecy ended, so did the war. Everything you were predestined to do, you have done. You’re free, and yet you still act like you have no life to live. It can’t go back to the way it was, because it isn’t the way it was. We’re different; we’re free. Get a hobby, for god’s sake, get a girlfriend. Just do _something_.”

 

And then, once again, Draco Malfoy brushed pasted him, and he was left speechless in the back gardens.

 

…

 

Harry found him in the courtyard, during the potions class they shared, as requested. He stood in the sun, bathing in the light and breathing deeply. Harry was surprised that he had even come at all, considering how mad he had been the day before. And when Draco Malfoy looked at him, he raised his chin just a little and crossed his arms, and took a deep breath.

 

“I’ve made a decision,” he declared firmly. Draco looked back to the light.

 

“Oh goody.”

 

He huffed and decided to continue.

 

“I thought a lot about what you said, and I’ve decided I’m going to start living my life the way I want to.” Draco looked at him out of the corner of his eye, curiosity getting the better of him. Harry took another step toward him so that they were only about a foot apart. “And I’ve decided that whatever life I’m going to have I want you to be in it,” and then just as Draco’s eyes widened he took a step forward, held an arm that wasn’t his and pressed his lips to Draco’s.

Draco was unresponsive beneath his lips, and then, just quietly, he softened beneath him, his hands on each of Harry’s arms. And then, very suddenly everything felt warmer than the way it had been before, like finally, everything was the way it was meant to be. They parted and stared at each other, they’re foreheads pressed together.

 

“And I love you,” he whispered, because he barely knew what the word meant, he knew that it had something to do with this boy, and he wouldn’t want it any other way. “And I’d really appreciate it if you would love me back.”

 

And then, with Harry Potter’s arms around his waist, Draco Malfoy gripped his collar and kissed him again.

**Author's Note:**

> I always loved the idea that Draco would be able to be who he wanted after the war because his father was in prison and he wouldn't be under any pressure anymore, so he'd just be able to relax. But I can't totally imagine Harry having no idea what to do without a prophecy to guide him after so many years.


End file.
